Flame of the North
by The Story Smith
Summary: Daerwen has spent many years as part of the Grey Company. Now she must face a different path, one that will change the course of history: 10th walker story. Rated M just in case for future chapters.
1. Prelude

A/N: I do not own the Lord of the Rings and the characters that live there, except for Elda and Daerwen who are my own creations.

It was in the early hours of the morning that the party arrived. It was a small party, only three persons in pale attire. It was led by another person, dressed mightily different. Whereas the travelers were ghostly and grim, their guide was welcoming, practically an extension of the forest they passed through. However, this comes as no surprise for the guide was an elf.

The party was slowly traveling toward the Last Homely House, or as others might call it, Rivendell. After entering the gates of Rivendell, the travelers warily swung down from their saddles to be greeted by Lord Elrond. The party met him with a slight bow of their heads. One traveler dressed in a cloak with a white fur mantle stepped forward, obviously the leader of the grim travelers.

"It is rare to see friends from the North, rarer still in these dark times" said Lord Elrond. His face was blank, yet his eyes spoke of suspicion and worry.

"We have come for the council, Elrond."

The elven lord did not seem surprised at this revelation and quickly gestured for some elves to tend to the party's mounts. "It would be best if this was discussed within." And with that Lord Elrond of Rivendell held out his hand for the leader of our mysterious party to take. The leader lowered the hood of the cloak, revealing the face of a woman.

The strangest thing about these folk, at first glance that is, was the way they wore their hair. Women of these northern people braided their hair tightly to their heads until it reached the just behind their ears, and then it was braided til there was no more to braid, but loose of the head. Now this in itself was strange for women, but braided into the loose braids were beads of metal and crystal. This lady's hair, for she was obviously a lady, was white as untouched snow, and her skin was nearly the same color. Her eyes were pale grey, like the color of overcast sky in summer. At first glance one might mistake her for spirit so pale was she! For certain, most would never call this woman beautiful, for she was too intimidating to be called such. However she was as regal as a queen and upon her brow sat a circlet of mithril of similar style to that of the elves.

"We have much to talk about, my old friend" said the lady to Elrond as they walked into the halls of Rivendell.


	2. Chapter 1

The first thing I noted, though not for the first time, was how swift dawn came in the southern lands. It had not been ten minutes from when my eyes first opened and yet the sky was already losing the grey-gold cast of pre-dawn.

I continued to staring at the sky until gold streaks of true dawn raced across the sky. There was little time for contemplation this morning, though there was more than had been in the past few weeks. I had wished to be in Rivendell sooner, worrying that I would be too late, and thus pushed our small party from dawn and well past dusk each day. Still we had barely made it in time for the council.

"And now the fate of Middle Earth shall be decided," I said to the air. I quickly pushed off the blankets and moved towards the table where a bowl of steaming water and a washcloth lay. There was no time for a bath, despite what my aching muscles were protesting. A bath could come later; I needed be presentable for the council and have time to speak with Mithrandir and the Dúnadan. After scrubbing as much of the grime from my body as possible, I threw on my breast-band and loincloth. Fine breeches were thrown on quickly, yet the tunic and shirt my mother bade me bring for the council eluded my fingers. A knock sounded on the door.

I dug rapidly threw my packs, all attempts at order discarded. A knock sounded again, louder and more rapid than the first. "Peace, friend! You must have patience!" I called as I slipped the dark grey linen shirt over my head, briefly enjoying the smooth material as it slid down my body. Over it went a gift from my mother: a tunic from the Grey Elves. It was made of soft black wool that in certain lights was hued with dark green. It fell to mid-calf where the hem was edged with a fine braid of mithril, as was the collar; a slit up each side to my hips allowed free movement. The belt, which came with it, had a similar braid of mithril in the center. It was a kingly gift given to her mother by the Grey Elves years ago, which she passed on to me when I came of age. A rapid knocking on the door woke me from my memories. Swiftly I laced up my boots to the knee and opened the door.

A man stood outside my door. Most knew him by Estel, a Ranger from the North. To me he was the Dúnadan, Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and my long-time friend, Aragorn.

"I feared you were drowning in the folds of your bed as you are so prone to do," he said with a smile.

"That, my friend, has not happened in many, many years. Or are you becoming senile in your old age?" I retorted. His smile only grew broader and he pulled me into a hug. "It is good to see you, Daerwen. It has been too long."

"It is good to see you too, Estel."

"I came to ask if you would dine with Gandalf and me this morning. Elda is speaking with Lord Elrond for now."

"It would be my pleasure, though I must braid my hair first." Aragorn raised one brow and finally gave my clothing notice. Slowly his smile dimmed. "I will explain. Later," I said my voice low. Aragorn gave me a hard look before nodding.

"Gandalf wishes to eat in his room, it is down the hall from the library." With that, Aragorn turned and walked away. I let the door shut slowly whilst I pondered. Aragorn was tired, that was plain. There was more though, he was afraid. I let my thoughts wander as I braided back my hair. What most would assume were thoughtless pieces of metal and crystal were actually tokens from friends and family, one for each mission done by a ranger in service to the Dúnadan; for each safe return. Only women who chose the life of a Ranger did so, a beautiful reminder to some men who would otherwise have locked us in our homes that women are as deadly as any man. It was a tradition started long ago by the warrior queens of Numenor. The braids themselves denoted the status of those women in service as Rangers. Seven braids marks a woman as a Ranger, eight as a lieutenant, and nine as a captain. I, like my mother, had nine braids and many beads. It had taken many years for such status to be earned for I was nearly as old as Aragorn. I had just past my 63 birthday.

I grabbed a white wool cloak with a silver embroidered hem and tucked my braided hair into it. I opened the door and pulled the hood low, hiding my face in the shadows of the hood. I could hear loud guffaws in the gardens off to my right. As I glanced between the trees I saw flashes of small limbs and curly blonde hair.

I turned left, heading deeper into Imladris. I passed the library and headed down the passage. At the end of the hall a door was ajar. I knocked upon the door and listened as soft footsteps came towards the door. The door swung open to reveal a wizard in gray robes.

"Daerwen, good," Gandalf began as we embraced. His gray robes wrapped around my frame; I felt as if I was a small girl again. "You have grown, child," Gandalf murmured. He stepped back, hands on my shoulders, and thoroughly examined me.

"Later, my friend," I said before he could begin interrogating me. "I fear my stomach shall disappear if I do not eat soon."

Gandalf took my hand and led me to the spread laid out on the balcony. Aragorn was already seated next to the rail. I slid into my seat with a smile and pushed back my hood. The three of us then began serving ourselves bread, jam, and fruit. Our breakfast passed in companionable silence, but I felt the eyes of my friends glance up multiple times at me. As the last pieces of food passed our lips, Gandalf and Aragorn turn slightly in their seats; their questions could not be put off any longer.

Before Aragorn could speak I raised my hand. "I have no knowledge of the matter in which the council shall discuss. I have only my suspicions. Orcs and trolls are becoming bolder and a shadow grows in the east. I believe I know what has been brought to Imladris."

"Daerwen, I do not—" Again I held up my hand.

"Aragorn, within my blood is a weak foresight. You know this. You share this. Whatever the council decides, I shall see it done. This is my path."

I could see as quickly as I spoke the fight leave my friend. Aragorn dropped his eyes to his empty plate. I turned then to Gandalf. Long had he been both friend and mentor to me, especially after my father had died. On his face was a sad resignation.

"I will not hinder you, Daerwen, if that is what you fear," he said gently. "I only wish it was not so."

I nodded and Aragorn sighed. He, most of all, had filled my father's place. In the beginning, I know he did so out of guilt and duty, for my father died on a mission with Aragorn. However, I know he grew to love me over the many years. He was the one who taught me how to be a Ranger.

"Daerwen, I will tell you only of the beginning of this tale," Gandalf began, interrupting my recollecting. "During his birthday celebration, I discovered that Bilbo Baggins had been in possession of a ring of power—you know the one of which I speak, do not interrupt." I swiftly shut my mouth. Gandalf's face was very grim. "I travelled to Isenguard, seeking council from Saruman. I had been deceived; Saruman has allied himself with Sauron. I was held captive in Orthanc until recently. However as I lay a prisoner, the ring travelled from the Shire to Imladris." Gandalf paused in his telling for a drink of water.

"Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's nephew, now carries the Ring. He was accompanied by three other hobbits," said Aragorn. "I met with them in Bree and guided them the rest of the way."

I sat and said nothing. Both men let me think quietly. After a time, Gandalf took my hand in. I looked into his eyes, my determination etched on my face. "So be it."


	3. Chapter 2

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor," began Lord Elrond. "Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate—this one doom."

Lord Elrond sat upon a raised throne behind a large stone pedestal. Seated in a half-circle around it were the representatives of the races of Men, Dwarves, and Elves, along with Gandalf and a young hobbit who I assumed was Frodo Baggins, the ringbearer. Frodo sat at one end of this council and Gandalf sat to his left. The Elven representatives came next, with a pair of men separating them from the dwarves. More men came after the Dwarven contingent; one was obviously a warrior for he slouched in his chair as if in a tavern. My mother sat to my right, and Aragorn sat to my left, the last to make up this council.

"Bring forth the Ring, Frodo."

Frodo slowly stood, bringing forth from his pocket a plain gold band. He set it in the center of the pedestal and returned to his seat seemingly freer than he had been a moment before. As I turned my attention to the Ring, a voice murmured secret desires and impossible dreams into my ears. The voice was seductive, but beneath the voice was a dark whisper which filled me with dread and fear.

"So it is true."

I wrenched my eyes from the Ring towards the speaker. Sitting in the middle of the Men the man once slouched in his seat was now leaning towards the pedestal. "In a dream," he began, standing, "I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying 'Your doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found.'" As the man told the council of his dream, I watched him drift towards the pedestal slowly. His eyes despite looking at the council kept getting drawn back to the Ring. As he reached the pedestal, he reached out his hand. If hovered but for a moment over the ring. "Isildur's Bane…"

"Boromir!" Lord Elrond snapped.

"Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."

Darkness settled heavily on the air around me. Air tasted like ash on my tongue. It felt like my head was going to be crushed from the weight of those words. I clenched my eyes shut trying to block out the noise from my head. My mother tore my hand from the chair's arm and gripped my hand like iron until slowly the unnatural darkness faded away with the last of the words. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see Gandalf on his feet glaring at the man.

"Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in Imladris," Lord Elrond said forcefully.

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" Turning towards the man once more, Gandalf snapped, "The Ring is altogether Evil!"

In my distraction, the man, Boromir, had returned to his seat. However, as Gandalf turned his back he shook his head. "It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor."

I could not believe this man. I knew that Numenor's blessing had long since been lost within the men of Gondor, but I had not begun to imagine that along with it had sanity disappeared! Beside me, I felt Aragorn stiffen.

Boromir continued whilst pacing, "Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it. None of us can," Aragorn said. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir turned haltingly towards Aragorn, a sneer marring his handsome features. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?"

I felt my blood turn to fire within my veins. My nails dug into the chair's arms making scratches in the wood. However before I could defend Aragorn, my mother grabbed my wrist and dug in her nails to the soft underside. She barely glanced at me from the corner of her eye, but the message was clear. I was not to reveal ourselves yet.

Across the circle, an Elf stood and stepped towards Boromir. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

"Aragorn?" said Boromir quietly. "This… is Isildur's Heir?" At Boromir's astonishment, Aragorn shifted in his seat. I could tell he was sitting with his shoulders back; a true Son of Eledil.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor."

"Havo dad, Legolas," Aragorn said.

Boromir turned back to the Elf. "Gondor has no king." He looked then at Aragorn and sauntered back to his chair. "Gondor needs no king."

Though I knew of the struggle that had faced Gondor for many years, of the despair and loss the country had suffered, I could not stop my anger from flaring at his words. The sheer arrogance of the man was astounding! Dimly, I heard Gandalf agree with Aragorn.

Lord Elrond stood. "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed." From the corner of my eye, I saw Boromir wilt in his chair. No one stirred.

"What are we waiting for?" growled a dwarf. He picked up his axe and brought it down swiftly on the Ring. With a flash of fire, the axe splintered like wood. Pain seared along my cheek. I brought my hand up to my face and came away with blood. I found the offending piece of metal deep within my hood. The dwarf had been blown back from the Ring. His fellows swarmed to help him stand. The Ring was, however, untouched.

"It cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Gloin, by any craft we here possess," stated Lord Elrond, amusement quickly fading into stern council. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm form whence it came. One of you… must do this."

A deep silence settled over the council. Men, Dwarves, and Elves began contemplating their doom.

"One doesn't simply walk into Mordor." Boromir said with agitation. "It's black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the great Eye is ever watchful." Fear filled Boromir's voice; fear of a memory of this evil place. "It is a barren wasteland. Riddled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond just said? The Ring must be destroyed!" Legolas jumped to his feet.

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" said Gimli.

Rising, Boromir said, "And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?"

Gimli stood. "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" The Elven delegation stood voicing their anger. "Never trust an Elf!" Quickly as if an avalanche had begun, men and dwarves stood. Voices raised in anger as elves argued with dwarves, dwarves with men, and men with elves. Gandalf stood and began yelling, "Do you not understand that while we bicker amongst ourselves, Sauron's power grows? None can escape it! You'll all be destroyed!"

I saw Boromir turn to face Gandalf. Aragorn put a hand on my arm to stop me from standing, yet I felt no urge to do so. Beneath the arguments and the yells, I heard the whisper of the Ring. "Ash Nazg Durbatulûk! Ash Nazg Gimbatul! Ash Nazg Gimbatul! Ash Nazg Gimbatul!"

I was so focused on this voice that I did not hear him speak. However, Frodo repeated himself. "I will take it." Slowly all voices ceased. "I will take the Ring to Mordor." The courage and determination I had seen on young Frodo's face quickly faded as realization struck him. "Though—I do not know the way."

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." With that, Gandalf stood behind Frodo and put a hand on his shoulder.

I felt Aragorn stand. "By my life or death, I can protect you, I will." He knelt and grasped Frodo's hand within his own. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," Legolas said.

"And my axe," said Gimli with a hard look at Legolas.

Slowly Boromir walked towards Frodo. "You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

"Heh!"

The bushes behind the forming party rustled as another Halfling pushed his way through to stand by Frodo. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me!"

"No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not," said Lord Elrond with a smile on his face. The hobbit, with his arms crossed over his chest, looked slightly abashed.

Slowly I stood. Aragorn met my eyes before they slid to the space behind me. "Oi, wait! We're coming too!" I heard the patter of feet run past. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us!" Two hobbits ran and stood at Frodo's side. The second said, "Anyway you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission, quest… thing."

The first muttered, "Well that rules you out, Pip."

Quietly, I walked forward. "Nine companions…" Lord Elrond said.

"Ten."

I felt the eyes of the entire council turn on me. It was not the first time today that strange and suspicious glances had been thrown my way. I still wore my hood up; my face was shadowed as none other was. Behind me, I heard my mother walk to my back. She had elected to show her face. In the morning sun, my mother's hair shown like snow. Her hair was braid back, token glinted in the light. Many of the Men and Dwarves looked uncomfortable knowing a woman was in their midst.

Slowly, I walked up to Frodo and knelt before him. Even at this height, Frodo had to look up to see my face—and see it he could. He drew in a small breath upon seeing I was a woman. Gently, I put my hands on his shoulders. "I will do all within my power to protect you, Frodo Baggins," I said. Standing, I lowered my hood. "The Grey Company stands at your back."


	4. Chapter 3

AN: I made a few changes, the largest was the name of the House in which Daerwen belonged to. I didn't like it, thus I changed it.

* * *

><p>I heard Men and Dwarves, even some of the Elves, begin to murmur there decent at my unveiling. If my hairstyle, nine warrior braids decorated with metal and jewels, did not reveal my sex, then my face surely did. My skin was pale; a Harad I met once said my skin was the color of ivory. Strong brows rested over pale grey eyes. High cheekbones and a long, aquiline nose led to full pale pink lips. Where it not for my hair, I look exactly like one of Numenorian blood. My hair, for which I am renowned among my people, is like flames. Riotous curls the color of fire would surround my face in a halo were it not for the braids that tamed them.<p>

Angered whispers grew in volume. Lord Elrond's voice cut through the chatter. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

Silence descended on the council. Beside me I heard one of the hobbits, the one called 'Pip', fidget. "Great! Where are we going?"

The look on Lord Elrond's face will be engraved on my mind forever. Behind me I heard Gandalf's soft chuckles. Turning, he gave me the barest of winks. Gandalf pushed through the line of hobbits before him and made towards Lord Elrond. Passing me, he squeezed my hand. "I think Lord Elrond," began Gandalf, "that it would be best if we begin without delay. However, that should start with the Fellowship becoming a fellowship."

Lord Elrond gave him a slight smile. "I too think that would be best. Please, relax. There shall be a feast at sunset in your honor."

Around me the various races began reforming their ranks. The Men grabbed Boromir's arm and drew him away. Gimli stepped away from Legolas and joined his companions. Legolas nodded at Aragorn and Gandalf before turning and joining the Elves of Mirkwood and Imladris. Ignoring the pointed glares in my direction, I turned and faced the four hobbits to my right.

"Good morrow, Master Hobbits," I greeted. "I have heard many praises of you and your kind."

"Gentlemen, this is Lady Daerwen Barathon," Aragorn said, gently brushing his hand along his cheek with a worried gaze directed at me. The hobbits jumped, just remembering that he and Gandalf still stood behind them. I tried to keep my face smooth, but could feel the corners of my lips pulling up. I glanced at Aragorn with a slight shake of my head.

Frodo gave me a timid smile. "It is good to meet you, my Lady." A chorus of 'ayes' reached my ears.

"I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, my Lady. Though you may call me Merry; most everyone does. This here is Peregrine Took, but he prefers—"

"Pippin, my Lady."

"As I was saying," Merry shot Pippin a disgruntled glance, "and over there is Samwise Gamgee."

"Hello, my Lady." Samwise gave me a nervous smile which I returned in full. At this his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. The movement caused the cut from Gimli's axe to open, and I felt a drop of blood rolling down my cheek. Samwise hurriedly shoved his handkerchief into my face. "Oh, my Lady, what happened to you face?"

"It's nothing, just a scratch," I said with a smile, "but I thank you for your concern." I softly dabbed at my cheek until the blood clotted. "If you do not mind, Master Gamgee, I will return this to you tonight, clean."

"It's no problem at all, my Lady. And, please, my Lady, you may call me Sam."

"Then you must call me Daerwen." Sam's blush grew, making his cheeks appear as rosy as tomatoes. Behind me, I heard my mother softly clear her throat. Half turning, I made room for my mother in the conversation.

"May I introduce my mother, Lady Elda Barathon." My mother gave the halflings a bow which they returned. As she straightened, I saw her smile and the hobbits' nervousness disappeared. When my mother smiled all of her grandiose was erased from her face. The years of battle and hardship vanished turning her into a comforting older woman with laugh lines prominently covering her face.

"Forgive me, young Masters, but I must take my daughter from your company for but a while," Elda said. "I bid you tidings for it is a long journey back to our lands and I must return quickly, thus our greetings must be farewells, as well. May the blessing of the Valar be with you." My mother stepped towards Aragorn, placing her hand over her heart and bowed. "Be safe. Be wise, and know the blessings of your kin are with you, Dúnadan." Aragorn and my mother embraced quickly, with my mother kissing his brow.

"Come, Daerwen." I bowed to the hobbits before turning and following my mother towards her rooms. As we passed the dwarves, I touched my mother's arm and veered off towards Gimli.

"Excuse me, Master Dwarves, for interrupting; however, I believe this belongs to you, Master Gimli," I said. As I handed over the axe fragment, Gimli turned red from embarrassment.

He cleared his throat before gruffly apologizing. Saying my farewells, I returned to my mother's side. As we left the company of the menfolk, my mother's shoulders sagged. We found are way to her room quickly where I leant against the closed door. Silence reigned. I stood watching my mother. Her shoulders were curved forward, her back slumped. The long years of her life seemed to grip her very soul in dark fingers.

Moving from the door, I sat on the bed next to her. I turned over her hand and rested my palm against hers. In all the years of my life, never before had I seen her so tired. Gently, she gripped my hand and placed a kiss upon my brow. "I wish that I had more time with you, ai' runya."

"I do not know if I shall return to the North, but we shall meet again; if not in this life, then the next."

"My time is coming to an end, Daerwen," my mother began. I started at her words.

"You still have many more years left, surely. You are strong—"

"Hush, child." My mother stood and went to her packs. She pulled a bundle of oiled leather from within and laid it next to me. "I believe that your father would have wanted you to have these on your journey."

As she spoke, I felt my eyes widen in shock. Reverently, I untied the package. Inside lay two curved daggers. The blades, I knew, were etched with runes reading 'Flame of the North' on one and 'Light of the West' on the other. From tip to hilt the blades were the length of my forearm and hand. The hilt was wrapped in leather up to a pointed pommel. The sheaths were plain dark leather, buffed by years of use. Many times when I was a young girl, I had seen my father strap on these blades and head off into the wilderness.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. "It has been a long time since I saw these," I murmured. The last time I had seen these blades, they were strapped to my father's sides as he rode south with Aragorn. I had not seen my sixth winter.

I forced memories back into the recesses of my mind; now was not the time to dwell in the past. The bed dipped next to me. Turning around, I saw that my mother's eyes were wet as well. "I am proud of you, Daerwen."

"Mela lle, Naneth."

"Mela lle, ai' runya."

That afternoon I watched my mother depart from Rivendell with her guard. I stood in the courtyard until the sky was turning purple and gold.

"You will see her again, Daerwen." Aragorn slowly walked up behind me and turned me around. "She will see brighter days."

"My head says that is true; she is strong. But my heart tells me that this will be the last I see of her." Aragorn wrapped his arms around me and I tucked my chin over his shoulder. "She will not outlast this war."

Arm in arm, Aragorn and I walked to the pavilion where the feast was being held.


	5. Chapter 4

As I expected, the feast was magnificent. Lord Elrond sat at the high table with Gandalf on his left and Glorfindel on his right. Arwen sat to Glorfindel's right, and Aragorn sat to Gandalf's left. It made me smile to see the two shoot glances at each other throughout the meal. Each race had their own table. Though it kept tensions down, I did not think this to be the most sensible seating arrangement to honor the Fellowship of the Ring.

Being neither one of Elrond's household, nor particularly comfortable with the Men, I sat with the hobbits. It was a pleasure to listen to their tales. Merry and Pippin shared delightful and engrossing stories of their escapades. Sam and I discussed plants used for healing remedies. Bilbo, Frodo's uncle, painted a vivid picture of his adventures with Thorin Oakenshield and Gandalf. Frodo, however, was fairly quiet. He would add in small anecdotes, but never involved himself fully.

As I heard the musicians begin to play a lively melody, I slowly stood to the confusion of the hobbits and went and stood beside Frodo. I saw Sam and Bilbo catch on to my actions, but the rest stayed ignorant. "You know, Frodo," I said with a grin, "it has been a long time since I have danced. I have heard many tales of the your dancing skills."

For the first time that I day I saw Frodo Baggins smile; I confess that it was one of the loveliest smiles I have ever seen. However, it quickly faded. "I don't think hobbit dances are fit for this kind of feast, Lady Daerwen."

I paused, and then knelt beside him. "Well… I believe that Lord Elrond won't mind. This feast is for us, isn't it?"

Frodo smiled again and grabbed my hand. He pulled me to a large open area near behind the tables and began to sashay be back and forth across the dance floor. The music swelled as Frodo spun me around and laughter bubbled out of my throat. As Frodo led the dancing, I caught snapshots of Pippin running up to Lady Arwen and asking her to dance. Merry was guiding one of the Imlradis elleths on to the floor. Soon, the floor was full of dancing hobbits and maids.

I heard the music crescendo and stop. All around me, elven maidens were giggling and laughing. I turned to Frodo with a smile on my face. "You, Master Hobbit, are the finest dancing partner I have ever had."

"Thank you, my—," I raised one of my brows, "Daerwen." We bowed to each other, then Frodo began leading us to our seats. As we passed the table of Men, I felt a hand on my arm.

"Pardon me, Frodo, but I am wondering if the lady would mind a dance." Boromir stood just to my right. He certainly looked handsome. He wore a dark blue tunic with gold embroidery over grey shirt and breeches. "My Lady?"

Frodo watched Boromir with a thoughtful gaze. We locked eyes for a moment, bowing to each other, and I let Boromir lead me to the dance floor. Music began playing again, though this time it was slower but still energetic. This time the dance floor filled with Elves and Men leading elven maidens across the floor.

For many moments, both Boromir and I said nothing. Instead we studied one another. He was tall and broad shouldered. Dark, reddish-brown hair was cut just above his shoulders, framing a proud face with stern grey eyes.

"You look very beautiful, Lady…," Boromir said quietly.

"Daerwen, Lord Boromir. And thank you." I did look quite nice; the best I had looked in a long time. Before my mother left, she presented me with a gown of green silk. It had been a gift from Lady Arwen to my mother on her first trip to Rivendell. It had fitted sleeves that started off my shoulders and attached to a ring on each hand. The fabric hugged my bodice before flaring at my hips. My mother had also made two small braids which she used to keep my hair from falling in my face, and left the rest free.

Again we passed in to silence for a time.

"I have never met a woman who could wield a sword before."

So finally, the truth appears. "I very much doubt that, my Lord."

"Please, call me Boromir," he paused. "Gondorian women do not learn how to wield a blade."

"I meant that you have probably met women who can and have wielded blades before, Boromir," I began, "though you did not know it. Their skill with a blade, however, is another thing."

"You have skill with a blade, my Lady?"

My jaw clenched. My back stiffened.

"Years of it. Please, call me Daerwen, Boromir. We are Fellows are we not?"

I felt him stiffen beneath my hands and felt a twisted joy at his reaction. It had been many, many years since my skill as a Ranger had been questioned. Perhaps too long, but I was not going to let some young man patronize me.

We both stopped with the music and bowed to each other. As he reached for my arm, I held my hand up. "Forgive me, Boromir, but I wish to speak with Lord Aragorn."

I stalked towards the head table, vaguely aware of a muscle in Boromir's jaw pulsing as I passed him. Just as I was passing the tables of the various races, I saw Aragorn leading Arwen to dance. I let a soft smile play over my face, my tension easing. Aragorn looked years younger with her by his side. However, now the man I had wished to speak with was occupied. I looked around for a moment before heading to the head table again. I slid in beside Gandalf in the chair that Aragorn had just vacated.

"Hello, Gandalf."

"I see you've been making friends," said Gandalf with a small smile.

"Some," I said ruefully. "I'm afraid that Boromir and I may not see eye to eye on where a woman belongs."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow, and over his shoulder I saw Lord Elrond do the same. I felt laughter form in my throat. Gandalf chuckled and winked at me, and the laughter escaped. Gandalf and I sat in companionable silence until the end of the song. Aragorn gave me a questioning look as he returned. Standing, I nodded towards the balcony behind the head table.

The balcony was nothing special, except for the fact that it was the only part of the pavilion in shadow. Aragorn braced his arms against the banister, looking away from me. I followed his example and looked out over Imladris' gardens. Sighing, I finally looked at him to find him studying my face.

"What troubles you?"

"I am worried about the hobbits," I said. Aragorn looked away and closed his eyes. "Their hearts are true, but they have no experience with any weapon besides their belt knifes."

"We will teach them; there is still time." Aragorn turned to face me. "Besides, Frodo will need them to keep his heart light."

At the end of the week, all that remained of the council was the Fellowship. Between us there was an uneasy truce. Legolas and Gimli kept their distance from one another. Boromir, though seen frequently with Merry and Pippin, remained polite and distant from Gandalf, Aragorn, and me. Especially me. In fact, the only binding between the Fellowship it seemed were the hobbits.

Gandalf spend much of his time in council with Elrond, Aragorn, and Boromir, as they plotted the best route to Mordor. However, in his spare time Gandalf could be seen smoking a pipe with Bilbo, showing maps to Frodo, or teaching Sam basic poultices. He even spent time with Merry and Pippin. Legolas attempted to show the hobbits how to use a bow, an endeavor that failed spectacularly. Gimli tried to show them how to wield an axe, though none could heft one. Boromir and Aragorn, though uneasy around each other, taught them how to use small hobbit-size swords.

During these practices, I would sit and watch, sometimes offering advice or encouragement. Though I offered my help, the hobbits seemed too worried about hurting me. Thus, I spent my time sparing with Aragorn, in the rare times he was not in council or with Arwen, or practicing archery with Legolas, when he was not in the library reading.

Time passed quickly, and soon the days were colder and mornings glistened with frost. Men, hobbits, and dwarves donned thick tunics and robes. The Elves being unaffected by cold and I who was accustomed to icy weather walked around without a care to the cooling air. However, I would often follow the Hobbits indoors to teach them how to mend their clothing, a skill that all but Sam was lacking in. I grew particularly close to Sam who was fascinated with tales of my far off home.

I was studying a book of Southern medicinal plants while my Fellows ate Lunch. Sam continually threw quick glances towards me, thinking that I did not notice.

"Sam", I said, "Is there something the matter?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw his eyes widen and cheeks burn red form embarrassment. Frodo chuckled softly, slowly growing into a full blown laughter, which quieted the group. Sam, Merry, and Pippin looked at Frodo with something akin to wonder; it had far too long since Frodo had laughed so freely. Since leaving Hobbiton, Frodo had apparently lost some of his child-like exuberance according to Sam and Gandalf.

"Oh, Sam", Frodo began, "don't tell me that you've forgotten Rosie so soon!"

I didn't believe it possible, but Sam's face grew even redder. "Mr. Frodo, that not… I don't…", Sam sputtered. His eyes grew wide. "Not that you're not very pretty, my lady!"

At this the entire table burst into guffaws. My shoulders shook as I tried to compose myself enough to reassure the poor hobbit. "My dear Sam, I thank you," I couldn't hold back a chuckle. "But I think it best if we don't think about romance." Sam's jaw dropped at this statement, and I gave him a wink as I turned my eyes back to my book.

"Actually, my lady," I gave him a stern look. "Sorry… Daerwen. I was actually wondering where you hail from." Small talk that had been slowly growing quickly ceased, all of my Fellows eyes turning towards me.

With a small sigh, I marked the page I was reading with a small leaf and put the book down on the table. Gandalf was happily chewing a roll of bread, ignoring the conversation. Aragorn looked distinctly uncomfortable; I raised an brow at him and he nodded his head. I was free to tell my origins.

"It is quite a long tale, Samwise."

"I don't mind, Miss Daerwen."

The title caught me off guard, but I felt the corners of my lips rise slightly. "If you do not mind, storytelling is considered an art form by my people; I would like to keep to tradition."

At this I saw Legolas lean forward in his seat, Gimli went back to eating as a thinly veiled attempt to look disinterested, but Boromir gave up all pretences and lent heavily on the table staring at me warily.

"In the northern mountains of Ered Luin, now live the remnants a once great people," I began slowly. "Their homes burned to ash, their fields sewn with the bodies of their countrymen, they left, retreating to their final stronghold hidden amongst snowy ridges. The fortress was but a ruin from an earlier age, left to ruin and decay. But the people now had need of it and thus they searched. Their numbers already small, dwindled. Men, women, and children died in the search, some due to low provisions and others from illness."

As I spoke, the men around me stilled. As if from a dream, I heard sobs of mothers who lost their children, wind howling in an echo of their pain. My skin tightened as if I was marching through the freezing air of the Ered Luin. "When they finally found the fortress, a great cry of despair rose from them. 'All is for naught' they cried, 'This is our end'. However, there was one who would not forsake hope. These people were without a leader until this time, for Arvedui had fled and now lay with his men at the bottom of the Icebay of Forochel and Aranarth stayed in Rivendell and forgot the northern court. Annúminas, their great city—"

"Annúminas was abandoned by Amlaith in 726," Boromir said abruptly.

Fire blazed in my blood. "Given that you are not of Arnor and Gondor's love for it was forgotten long before Annúminas was left for Fornost, you would do well not to question me," I growled. "Annúminas was not abandoned. The House of the Steward of Arnor along with the Tower Guard and their families stayed to protect the city, for Amlaith could not carry with him the inscriptions of our history on the walls of Annúminas! He could not carry with him the paintings of Númenor that graced the ceilings done by those who remembered those shores!"

Silence reigned as the last of my words fell from my lips. Boromir sat as if stricken.

"She speaks the truth, Boromir." Gandalf whispered. "Go on, Daerwen."

Slowly I turned away from the table and looked out upon the valley. "Annúminas, their great city, was now truly lost and the Steward of Arnor, Daermaethor, was dead. However, Daeralda, his daughter refused to give up hope. She rebuilt the Fortress of Nimimlad and under her rule began building Forminas. It was not till the time of Aranuir that we were reunited with the rest of the Dúnedain. The House of Barathon, the House of the Steward, by then was established as a separate ruler according to the people, thus Aranuir named the children of the House of Barathon as princes of Emyn Uial. He swore that his heirs shall honor this bond and when the kingdom of Arnor was rebuilt, the House of Barathon would hold their place as Stewards of Arnor."

I paused and took a sip of mead. Turning back to Sam, I said, "As you know, Sam, I am of the House of Barathon. In fact, I am the heir." I stood up and bowed to my Fellows. "Pardon me, my lords. Till later."

Grabbing my book from the table, I quickly strode out of the hall with the stares of my Fellows burning holes in back and the silence deafening my ears.


End file.
